The Silver Lining of a Feces Encrusted Foot
Our 14 year old dog Jimmie has an unfortunately side effect of old age. He has very little consciousness of his bowels. He can surprise himself (and us) with a dump at any place and any time. In front of guests even. Sometimes this surprise occurs in the middle of the night while he is dead asleep. You have to wake him up and show him. “Dude! You took a dump!”
With little Sagan in our lives, I’m a light sleeper at the moment. Last night in the wee hours, I became aware of Jimmie getting up and rushing down the stairs. That means either he is about to have an accident… or he already did. My nose told me it was the latter. So I grabbed some toilet paper and went on patrol. I found two rather small pieces on the stairs which I picked up. I returned to my room and headed to the bathroom to dispose of them.
I was just thinking, “Wow, I can’t believe all that smell came all the way from the stairs from just this” when I became aware of the most unpleasant of sensations on my right foot. My BARE right foot.
It was such a large deposit I had practically molded myself a brand new shoe. I let out an involuntary sound of distinct displeasure. Sagan stirred, but luckily didn’t wake up.
We sleep on the floor and to walk to the bathroom would have poop pass by my bed much closer than I’d be comfortable with. Irritated, I hopped down to the bathroom on the third floor. I tried my best to rinse off my foot in the bathtub, but the pressure of the water alone was not enough. I had to use my hands to scrub the remainder off. And then I discovered– THERE WAS NO SOAP.
Even more irritated, I hopped down to the half bath on the second floor. I kicked my foot up onto the sink and used that soap and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed my foot (and hands) like there was no tomorrow.
When I came out of the bathroom, Jimmie was slinking back upstairs from the dog door on the first floor. When he saw me, he froze. He just stood there with his head low and his tail between his legs.
I was tired and I was incredibly angry. Incredibly angry. I wanted to yell and scream. I wanted him to be punished. Instead I found myself kneeling down and giving the poor old dog some pets and trying to calm his nerves.
My forgiveness benefitted more than just Jimmie.
“Well this should put your mind at ease,” I thought.
A few nights before, little Sagan had a rough night. Instead of sleeping, he opted for fussing. All night long.
Crying (July 28th, August 7, August 25)
Circa 4 AM, I felt emotions I didn’t want to feel. Frustration. Exasperation. Anger.
Rationally I know those emotions are normal, particularly with sleep deprivation. But, you still feel guilty and you still worry. “What if [my temperament] gets worse?!? What if I turn into one of those people that shakes babies?!?!”
Well after last night, those particular fears are squelched (I still get to fret about SIDS though). If I can be THAT angry and still be so instinctively gentle with an old incontinent dog, I most certainly will do the same for my son.
Jimmie may have given me a rude awakening last night, but I’ll rest easier in return.